Writingin the

Dark

OTHER BOOKS BY MARTIN LOWENTHAL

Buddha and the Art of Intimacy

Alchemy of the Soul

Dawning of Clear Light

Embrace Yes

Heat to Heart, Hand in Hand, Shoulder to Shoulder

Opening the Heart of Compassion(co-authored with Lar Short)

unseen poems

Martin Lowenthal

Dedicated Life Publications

Writingin the

Dark

Published in the United States by

Dedicated Life Publications

Printed by BookSurge LLC, an Amazon.com company

Copyright © 2009 Martin Lowenthal

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any

means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or other-wise, without prior written permission from the authors.

ISBN: 1-4392-5098-7

Cover and book design by Grace E. Pedalino

“Lotus” cover photo by Grace E. Pedalino

V

CONTENTS

Preface: Writing in the dark 1

LOVE

When I Saw You 4Inside 5Hidden Bird 6The Heavens 7“Every now and then” 8“Your smile is the hearth of dawn” 9“My kisses and caresses” 10The Worshipper 11Heart at Home 12Mis-under-standing 13An Incomparable Love Poem 14The Dancers 15Love Poem for the Divine 16Body of My Beloved 17The Chain 18

DARK RETREAT LIFE AND PRACTICE

Freedom and Sight 20Beyond Ordinary 21Luminous Silence 22“Some lights are only seen in darkness” 23Assault 24Illumination 25Here and Now in Dark Retreat 26“I sit in the stony silence of the dark” 27The Offer 28Sunrise in Dark Retreat 29Terrain of the Dark 30Great Darkness 31

VI

Darkness 32At Home in the Dark 33Sitting in the Dark 34

DAILY LIFE AND CELEBRATIONS

Music of the Day 36Finn and The Bite of Salmon 37“As teeth crush a grape” 38The Bath 39 “Pausing on a path in the wild woods” 40“She ambles fearless” 41Traces 42Dandelion 43“Snow kisses trees, rocks, ground” 44Night Goddess 45Night is the Temple 46Shadows 47“Each day, like early spring” 48Daily Service 49Rhythms of Passover 50One 51Embarrassing Moments 52Following Memories 53Celebration 54Zafu, The Guru 55Tears of Grief 56Remembering My Mother 57Clearing the Basement 58Limping 59“We light a candle of hope for peace” 60“The tear of a father whose daughter” 61Enough 62

VII

“Avalokiteshvara drops two tears in my eyes” 63An Outlaw Koan 64The Laugh in a Meditation Hall 65On Listening to Isaac Stern 66A Great Idea 67The Altar 68Fiery Gold 69

PLAYGROUND OF AWARENESS

“The warrior of consciousness” 72The Trouble with Meditation Practice 73Who Are You 74A Traveling Companion 75Sword of Inquiry 76Writing about Meditation 77The Relative 78“Essentially ‘I’ do not exist” 79Echoes 80The Swing 81The Mirror 82The Hound 83Global Mind 84Bell of Compassion 85

INSIGHTS

“Attention is the dagger” 88Light 89“Our longing for God” 90Religious Conversion 91“The heart in our words” 92“Tears can feed” 93“Narcissism and its attendant” 94“Light is the womb of day” 95

VIII

Being Inside 96Memories 97Tears 98Thought 99“We write stories of our past in the air” 100“Open wounds are not ever-present” 101Self-Righteousness 102Cloak of Prayer 103

1

Preface

Writing in the dark

Writing in the darkdoes not off er the usual poetic images,the angle of the sun through tree branches,a squirrel chasing a squirrelalong the top of a picket fence,or the white orchid on the kitchen table.Th e endless black meritshardly an obvious comment.Th e impulse to create, however, is quite notable.

These poems are dedicated to the creative spirit that

inspired them. Writing has become a practice in the

numerous dark retreats that I have done over the past sixteen

years. A dark retreat involves living in total darkness. I have

done seventeen dark retreats to date, generally for two week and

as long as one month.

Over the years of doing these retreats, I have developed a

method for physically writing in the dark* and a discipline for

crafting poems that I could not see. The poems in this collection

were written in dark retreats in 1998, 2001, 2003, 2004, 2005,

2006, 2007, 2008 and 2009.

2�

*A METHOD FOR WRITING IN THE DARK: The method

I developed for writing is quite simple. I take a pad of 5x8 paper. I place the index finger of my left hand on the left edge

of the pad to mark where I have begun a line. I write across

the page and upon reaching the right edge, my left index finger

moves down. I find it with my pen and begin another line. If

my lines are shorter than the width of the page, I simply move

my finger down and begin a new line. I put each written page

at the back of the pad whenever I reach the bottom, decide to

pause in my writing, or have completed a poem. I have written

hundreds of pages of journals, poems, and stories in the dark.

LoveLov

4�

When I Saw You

Th e moment I saw youI fell into eternity.Magically my heart openedto catch my fall.

When I saw youa silent cry of longing broke out of its secret prison.

When I saw youa single tear sealed my surrender.

When I saw youmy heart went one wayand my head went another.

My mind was lost for weekswhile my heart danced through the nights and daysintoxicated with the wine of love.

When they met up again some time later,my heart had to teach my untrained mind how to abandon its sober ways.

5�

Inside

Inside this union,there is no inner and outer,only love.

Inside the sacred,there is no inner and outer,only the Divine.

Inside life,there is no inner and outer,only creation.

Outside thesethere is homelessness, desperation and numbness.Inside these,is the rapture that was always desired.

6�

Hidden Bird

A hidden bird livesinside my being.It was quiet and still,until I met You.

Now it sings, sings, sings,and fl ies, fl ies, fl ies,and is making a nest for Youin my heart.

7�

The Heavens

Your crescent moon smileturns your eyes into stars.

8�

Every now and thenI dive into waterand fl oat on the river of memorythat opens into the ocean of You.

9�

Your smile is the hearth of dawn.Your embrace is the hearth of night.

10�

My kisses and caresses are the gentle waves at the shore of your beingconveying the fullness and depth of the ocean of my love.

11�

The Worshipper

My body worshipsat the temple of your passionthat turns your nipples into fi rm sweet raisinsand makes nectar fl ow from the well of your desire.

12�

Heart at Home

My heart, not satisfi ed with the company of other organs,gathers family, friends, lovers,children, and assorted strangersin its embrace.

How wondrous that it leaves with so manyand remains home with me.

13�

Mis-under-standing

“You don’t understand me or you would know what I want.”“How can I understand you unless you say what you want?”And so it goes,as the dog slides between themand each reaches out in waysthat have been repeated hundreds of times,one behind the earsthe other to the wiggling rump.Th e dog thinksunderstanding doesn’t hold a candle togood strokes in the right places.

14�

An Incomparable Love Poem

I don’t know how turning you into a similebecame associated with being poetic.

Beautiful images such asroses, oceans, and starshave been trivialized by Hallmarkand do not hold up to scrutiny.

Roses get affl icted by insects and wither,oceans have sharks and pollution,and the stars are so distantit would take more than my lifetime to reach them.

But I suppose, given your tastes,you might be a fi ne mealand together we make up a stewthat becomes more fl avorfulover timeon a steady fl ame.

15�

The Dancers

Th ey waltz around the fl oorlike two hippos.Other dancers turn their att entionout of caution and amusement.Th ey see heavenly grace expressedon the two blissful facesevoking smiles of joy that fi ll the room.

16�

Love Poem for the Divine

You are embracing love,radiant, pervasive, luminous,sweet and sticky like honey.

In your omnipresenceYou are the fragrance of the rose,as well as the fart,the pleasure of orgasmand the pain of loss,the caress of the breezeand the power of the hurricane.

You are the loverthat loves everyone else as well.

My love aff air with youatt acks my egoand I feel abandonedby the way your world treats me.

Even as I know,from this relationshipthere is no escape.

17�

Body of My Beloved

Beloved, your generous bodycaresses all in the vibrant stillness of night.Your naked beauty is revealed at dawnand lovers are invited to drink from your welland immerse in your fl owing river.Your mountains rise majesticallyabove your fertile valley.

Th ere are somewho shrink from your embraceand would cover your magnifi cencewith robes of judgment and righteousness.But Eros will not remain hiddenand the fi erce challenges of lifecan only be met in the name of true love.

18�

The Chain

Compassion is a chain of connection.Heartache is its lockand the bond is pure love.

Dark Retreat Life and Practice

etreat LifePra

20�

Freedom and Sight

Living in a small, completely dark room,my mind is emancipatedfrom the bondage of bills, correspondence,pett y conversations, and entertainment.

My att ention expands into vast space,dancing to the tune of presence.My soul luxuriates in recreative preparationto once again see the sky, feed the birds,kiss my wife, play hide and seek, and share stories.

Light and darkness each have a price,and I willingly pay each its due.

21�

Beyond Ordinary

Living in darkness reverses everything.I see visions invisible to the eye,listen to silence inaudible to the ears,

sense presences the body cannot touchand abide in clear light that is normally obscured.

22�

Luminous Silence

In this retreat of total darknessradiant consciousnessthat has been hidden in the shadowsrises above the horizon of distractionand illuminates the silence.

Th oughts pause to marvel in awe.Th e heart sighs at being home.Th e vastness of space resounds with quiet joy.

23�

Some lights are only seen in darkness,some songs only heard in silence,great forces only felt in stillness,and our true longing only knownin the absence of desire.

24�

Assault

In this dark placestillness surrounds the body.

Silence piercesthe heart of habitual thinking.

Th e wound to the mindis clarity.

25�

Illumination

Th e full moon illuminates entire landscapesand the dark retreat remains beyond its reach.

Yet the full light of clarityfi lls the room and all space.

26�

Here and Now in Dark Retreat

When we open our eyes in light, we go from inside to the outside world of form, shape, size and position and time is marked by moving from here to there.

In this black cave, here opens to the boundless and now is defi ned by pervasive presence.

27�

I sit in the stony silence of the darkpenetrating the black with wide eyes.Lights fl ash from nowhere,reds, greens and bluespulse at my naked vision.

My skin touches and is touched by the vibrating air.My heart senses a world,vast beyond imagination.I cannot tell where I begin or endor whether this is my experienceor the sigh of an unknown presence.

28�

The Offer

Th e woman sitt ing next to meoff ers to transcribe and print outmy poems while I continue to meditate.

I think what a wonderful off er.Th en I could review and share them for feedback.

I realize that I cannot seewhich sheets of scribbled paper have poems on them.I am in dark retreat.

Furthermore, she does not exist.I am dreaming.

My lucidity punctures the dream of supportas I sleep in my solitary womb of darkness.

29�

Sunrise in Dark Retreat

As the sun of conscious memory rises above the horizon of slumber,It brings the objects of my world back into being— bed, night stand, cushion.In this room of darkest night, there is no need of shadows.

30�

Terrain of the Dark

Maps and eyesight are uselessin the terrain of the dark.Only the perceptions of a sacred heartcan behold the vast intimacyof this primal landscape.

31�

Great Darkness

Great Darkness opens and invitesthe loving, fi erce penetration of Extreme Light

and her womb forever carriesthe visions of possibility.

Th e universe never sleeps again.

32�

Darkness

Darkness absorbs everything, light, sounds, tears, pain, songsand all words and images ever made into its infi nity.

Only the Clear Light of Divine Awareness comprehends its magnitudeand only the unconditional presence of a loving heart can apprehend its magnifi cence.

33�

At Home in the Dark

It is only in the dark that I am reminded of how blind I am in daily light.It is through feeling waterin the unseen space of my retreat room that I am struck by the miracle of small things. In the song of the birds outside, the fragrance of cooked rice, the mind releases its claim to the att ention of the heart as I open to what is.

Nothing is held beyond the moment.Judgments and comments give way to presence.Th undering silence and dynamic stillness energize my heart posture of praise.Th is eternal moment of resounding joy simply serves the delicious glory of the taste of cool, fresh water in a dark home.

34�

Sitting in the Dark

Sitt ing on a fi rm cushion, thoughts come and go mind remains.Feelings arrive insistently and exit reluctantly, heart remains.Inner lights and colors arise, pass through and disappear, darkness remains.“I” goes “Am” remains.

Daily Life and Celebrations

36�

Music of the Day

Th e Hallelujah chorus of birdsaccompanies the sunrise.At sunset they singa requiem for the day.

37�

Finn and The Bite of Salmon*

With one taste of king salmon,blasts of delight assault my palate,awakening my senses,infl aming my soul,consuming my body,leaving the aft ertaste of Grace.

*Finn MacCool, the legendary chieftain of the fienna in

Ireland, who gained his wisdom from eating a salmon.

38�

As teeth crush a grape,the palate sings a sweet melody.Every cell, even hairs,sigh in praise.

39�

The Bath

My pleasure loving skindelights in thecaresses and embrace of the bath.

I marvel that my bodydoes not follow the waterdown the drain.

40�

Pausing on a path in the wild woods,I can almost hear the carpenter’s songthe ants sing toa fallen logas they recycle its lifeas a treeinto a home.

41�

She ambles fearlessacross the yardin all her splendid furriness,

pauses to gaze through the dim morning light at the mildly alarmed meditatorthen leisurely lumbers to the woodswagging her skunky tail.

42�

Traces

Th e cardinal glides over the snowy groundmaking no tracksyet leaving traces of beautyin my memory.

43�

Dandelion

Th e keepers of lawnscape proprietysee an unwelcome erectionamid crew-cut fur.

To lovers of wild beautythis golden off ering of headseeks to pleasure the sky.

44�

Snow kisses trees, rocks, ground and myself with silent abandon, enfolding all in its cold, loving embrace,

knowing that its passion for earth will end in its utt er dissolution.

45�

Night Goddess

Th e fading radiance of daysinks into the bosom of the Night Goddessas she adorns herself with stars

a brush stroke of clouda pendant moon to entranceenticing the eyes of wonder.

46�

Night is the Temple

Night is the templethe fl owers fold their petalsand bow their headsas the breeze fi lls the worldwith the fragrance of prayer.

47�

Shadows

In the brilliance of full moon night,willow and oakcast dappled and feathery shadows,leaving footprints of wonder and beautyin the ground of memory.

48�

Each day, like early spring, the seeds of my longing push through thawing ground,impelled by the possibility of light and new blossoming.

49�

Daily Service

In the temple of my heartthe service has no sermon or announcements

only hymns of longing, praise and loveand the Sabbath lasts all week.

50�

Rhythms of Passover

Th e service, once led by my grandfatherjust as his father had done and as my uncle aft er,I do now, again and again.

Each night we become free from bondage.Each generation, each year, each moment, reiterates the rhythm of enslavement and liberation.

Longing for an endwe miss the playing

Life says, there is no beginningso no end,just the play it again.

51�

One

I live as though I am Th e One.Yet I see a worldfi lled with people convincedthat they are Th e One.

I know that thinking I am Th e Oneprevents me from being One,experiencing ultimate Oneness.

I work on becoming no one,so I can att ain being Onethus being the Onewho is One.

Becoming too preoccupiedwith one selfgets one stuckin duality.

52�

Embarrassing Moments

Embarrassing moments have beenamong my most eff ective teachers.Th ey have never been repeated.

At age four, I explained to my skeptical parentswhy I was late coming home from playing in the woods,because a giant tomato and a gnarly carrotdecided to block the trailand refused to let me pass.

Or, when I told Janey,a beautiful activities director,that when I grew up in fi ft een yearsI would marry her,not knowing she was already engaged to Mike, the camp director.

Or, the time I took a dump in my pantsand pretended to the rest of my fi rst grade classthat the smell must be coming from Tommy Smaltz.

Or, the time I sang solo in a junior high school showin a key no one had ever heard before.

Or, being seen on a date with Debbieby Martha with whom I had a datelater the same evening.

It may be that my life has been propelledby a series of obvious mistakes.

53�

Following Memories

Like other nights I follow memories of you into sleep.In dream you are transformed into a model in an art class at the Louvre.Aft er class, you dress and we walk into a barn where you struggle to get the hang of the pull and squeeze on the udder of a cow who keeps looking around perplexed about what has happened to the milkmaid.Frustrated, we leave and enter a tavern in Barcelona where you become a wild gypsy dancer and we go out into the night to sing to the moon.In the morning, I follow memories of you into the day, wondering who you are now.

54�

Celebration

Suddenly, in the midst of a peaceful meditation, Your presence swept through and around my body. Bright light fi lled my vision. I became naked and bathed in the river of that love. Even the litt le hairs on my arms stood up and rejoiced.

55�

Zafu, The Guru

Who would have guessed that such a loft y teacher would occupy such a lowly position.

Pressed into service, the cushion unconditionally supports all manner and sizes of posteriors.

It receives with utt er equanimity the foul winds that practitioners pass.

Its stability of purpose goes unacknowledged at the end of sitt ing as it is placed unceremoniously into a heap to patiently rest, cheek to cheek, with the other stuff y teachers.

And when, aft er years of endless end-full service, the threads of its current form dissolve, it surrenders completely, not knowing what new incarnation will be its contribution, what new, higher purpose it may be given aft er kissing us so lovingly.

56�

Tears of Grief

Tears of griefdo not obscure my vision.Rather, they cleanse the eyes of my heartto more clearly viewan interior landscape of lovethat is no longer beheld in the visible world.

57�

Remembering My Mother

She would be turning 98 this year.I am comforted thatshe did not live this long.

I would see her now bent over from osteoporosis, head straining to make eye contact,her descended organs piled upon each other at her waist.

I would have to watch her pain and discomfort overwhelm her fragile tolerance.

It is bett er that I remember heron our last visit,her mind still sharp,her body somewhat tentativeyet functioning to support her insistent interestin learning, her loving nature,and her delight in simple pleasures.

Her life, though challenging, was still rich.She even talked about dying with grateful vitalitydays before her fatal accident nine years ago.

58�

Clearing the Basement

In preparing the family house for a new owner and a fresh vision,I sort through boxes fi lled with old memories.Some reform with easy recall.And others collapse,disintegrated by the termites of time.

I grieve them bothas I clear out an old home,feeling surprisingly lighterbelonging more fully to the present.

59�

Limping

Each day we struggle awkwardly with the infi rmity of long suff ered wounds and weaknesses moving with a magnifi cent, determined limp to our destination.

60�

We light a candle of hope for peace. Th en our own anger blows it out.

61�

Th e tear of a father whose daughter perished on September 11,Th e kaddish of a youth whose parents died on a bus bombed in Jerusalem,Th e grief cry of a Palestinian mother on hearing of her son’s death in the Intifada,Th e famine-hollowed faces of mother, father, and child in southern Sudan,Th e secret chants of monks imprisoned in slave labor camps in Tibet,All these are seen, heard, and felt more clearly in the dark and silence of retreat than in the light and noise of busy life.

62�

Enough

Th ere are not enough tears in the eyes and the heart for the enormity of the world’s pain.Th ere is not enough respect in our minds for the strength and dignity of the human spirit.Th ere is not enough praise on tongues for the wonder, awe, and grace of the Divine.

Yet when we off er ourselves wholeheartedly in the service of life, love and beauty, it is always enough.

63�

Avalokiteshvara* drops two tears in my eyesto see the pain in the world.Th e river of grief carves great canyons in my heartto hold it alland still there is more.Yet the beauty of those vast woundstransforms everythinginto the boundless radiance of an open landscape.

*Avalokiteshvara is a Buddhist deity of compassion.

64�

An Outlaw Koan

Two robbers, unknown to each other, enter the bank lobby from separate doorways. Taking out their guns, they simultaneously shout, “Put up your hands, give me all your money or die!”

Who lives?

65�

The Laugh in a Meditation Hall

A blast of delightto awaken slumbering serious seekers.

66�

On Listening to Isaac Stern

Violinist and violin sway in unionin the key of love.A seed is planted in my heartthat grows with every note.Ascending to the heart of heavenon the silk thread of aMendelssohn concerto,my life on earth is ablazewith sacred passion.

67�

A Great Idea

A great idea stands lonely among a crowd of pedestrian thoughts.It longs for immortality.Its great fear is not doubt or contradiction;It is being forgott en.

68�

The Altar

Th e water off ering longs to return to its fl owing source.Th e blossoms wait to rot in mother earth.Th e fl ame dances until it returns home to darkness.

69�

Fiery Gold

Th e fi ery gold of sunrise awakens the soulplanting seeds of the day.

Th e fi ery gold of sunset melts the heart into honeyto be harvested by the night lover.

Playground of AwarenessPlayg

72�

Th e warrior of consciousness, awakened aft er centuries of waiting,draws her radiant sword of att ention,cutt ing thoughts into silence.

Other thoughts come forward and retreatand confusion folds in on itself,as the mind sett lesinto the open landscape of clarity.

73�

The Trouble with Meditation Practice

Seated on my cushion,I contemplate the foolishness of practice.

What am I rehearsing for?Am I counting breathsto become profi cient at countingso I can enter a breathing competition?

Just when I have thoughtall the thoughts I have to think,the att ainment of no-thought is marredby the mental commenton the pleasure of achieving no-thought.

Can I really practice no-self?Is this all preparation for a command performanceat which “I” am a no-show?

74�

Who Are You(based on the poem Lost by David Wagoner)

Be still. Th e air you breathe and the sounds you hearAre not confused. Who you are is Here and Now,And you must treat it as a powerful stranger,Must open wholeheartedly to know it and be known.Listen. Th e surf of silence, it answers,“I have made this world around you,If you leave, you may come home again by simply att ending.”No two sensations are the same to the body.No two moments are the same in experience.If what a sensation or a moment does is lost on you,You are surely lost. Be still. Th e silence knowsWho you are. You must let it defi ne you.

75�

A Traveling Companion

Long ago I joined others on the path of wisdom.Over time I have learned a litt le.Th ose who think they know, don’t. Th ose who think they do not know, don’t. Th ose who have come to love the journey, have a chance.

Wisdom is supremely selective. She cannot be gained or captured as a prize to be won. She chooses who she will walk beside as an unseen, silent and loving companion.

76�

Sword of Inquiry

Th e sword of inquiryatt acks relentlessly with the chant“who am I?”

until the mind consumes itself and forgets that it once was somebody.

77�

Writing about Meditation

Writing poetry or anythingabout meditationis to elaborate at lengthabout essentially nothing.

78�

The Relative

Nothing can be said about the absolute.What can be said about the relative,depends.It’s in the eye of the beholder.Like the snail who was muggedby a turtle and couldn’t saywhat happened becauseit all went by so fast.Or, the driver on a freewaywho hears on the radiothat a nut is driving the wrong wayon the freeway.He thinks “One nut? Hell.I’m facing hundreds of them.”

Perspectives may be relativebut life always means relationshipnot by comparisonbut by interconnection and interbeing.Each is a feature of what is,not what isn’t.What is,is a change from the viewpointof what was.Since nothing persistswhat is,is always what is,forever.

79�

Essentially “I” do not exist.Existentially I do exist.Essentially “I” am out of it.Existentially I am stuck in it.Some say “such is life.”I say,“Let’s dance.”

80�

Echoes

My experiences echoin the canyon of thoughtsand I cannot help listeningto the hollow repetitionsas if they matt er.

“Stop that!” I sayto my mind,and frustration echoes indiminishing cycles.

I pause,listen to the silence.

“Ah ha!” I say triumphantly.“Ah ha!” “Ah ha!” “Ah ha!” “Ah ha!” “Ah ha!”

81�

The Swing

A glimpse led to a touchand then a kissand momentary union.I am now a servantof the Divine.I ride the great swingthat moves betweenthe superfi cial and the sacredembracing the realizationthat I may swing back and forthforever.

82�

The Mirror

Haven’t you ever been suspiciousof the mirror as a metaphorfor the nature of mind?

I can imagine that in impulsive momentsof personal expression, my mirror sticks outa tongue as soon as I turn away.And just as quickly, if I turn back,it assumes its faithful, unshakable refl ection.

My mind, on the other hand,will make unseemly and laughable faceswhether I am watching or not.Even the mind that noticesgives a snicker now and then.

83�

The Hound

By some gastronomic clock around the same hour each day,A not so subtle split occurs.

While my mind abides in spacious awareness,a small part goes to sit by the door.Riding the edge of patience and salivation,this hound nature draws more and more att ention away from the nature of mind.

When the dinner knock comes, a nearly ravenous beastis ready to pounce when the way is clear.

With a willing shrug,my consciousness joins the feastsurrendering to the radiance of taste,delighting in the play of natures.

84�

Global Mind

What a wonder—the wandering mind

that can traverse the globe to China, discourse on world events, and plan the coming month,

misses the caressof the breeze on my cheek.

85�

Bell of Compassion

Wood strikes metal.We resonate in the world of its ringing scream,opened by the tear in silence.

Insights

88�

Att ention is the daggerconsciousness makeswhen its point strikes the momentcutt ing the skin of distractionand opening the way for presence.

89�

Light

A beam of clarity at the heart of any insight.

90�

Our longing for Godmay be strong,but an oft en stronger desireis to becomesomeone else’s God.

91�

Religious Conversion

In the temple of thoughteverything is converted into words.On the sacred waywords are converted into paversmaking a passage to ecstasy.

92�

Th e heart in our wordsturns the conversationinto an ecstatic danceon a giant lotus blossom.

93�

Tears can feeda pool of bitt ernessor water the tree of love.Cultivate the gardenthat has been entrusted to you.

94�

Narcissism and its att endantaddictions, fears, and onanismmake the soul smalland the Sacred distant.

95�

Light is the womb of day,darkness the womb of night,and Love the womb of life.

96�

Being Inside

Ah, poet, it does not interest meto know what is inside you.Share what it means to be inside lifeand what it feels like to be inside God.Th en we can bridge the gap between us.

97�

Memories

Memories are not always pathways into the past.Some are stories displayed on the coff ee table at gatherings.Others are the recitation of wounds in the dungeons of anger and hate.And still others are passages in a hymnal of praise sung in the temple of belonging.

98�

Tears

Don’t wipe away tearsto keep this world in focus.Th ey are a lensinto the landscape of the heartand a nectar of the soul.

99�

Thought

Experience casts its thoughts.Even the epiphany of high noongives way to aft ernoon shadows.

100�

We write stories of our past in the airwhile the thirsty earth of our soulwaits for the blood, sweat, and tears of Nowso something beautiful can grow.

101�

Open wounds are not ever-present.Th ey are re-infl icted by constant recall.

Scars, on the other hand,make up the contours of our beauty.

102�

Self-Righteousness

the angry off spring of frustrated disappointment and primal fearcostumed in priestly garb.

103�

Cloak of Prayer

We fashion a cloak of prayerwith images made of words,emblazoned with the color of feelingand threaded with songs rooted in longing,all woven into the fabric of silence.

Th is mysterious cape protectsby making us transparent,revealing our hidden heart to the invisible Divine.

THE DEDICATED LIFE INSTITUTE (DLI) supports spiritual exploration and growth and is dedicated to making the essence teachings of many traditions accessible in a Western idiom. Incorporating the principles of the mystic way, we promote both recovery of our wisdom ground of being and development of our capacity to use our daily conditions as a means of growth and the opportunity to manifest our true wisdom and loving nature. Our dedication to living as an expression of wisdom and love serves to encourage both personal and social transformation. The Institute offers meditation groups, retreats, workshops, and a home study program. For more information please visit our website at www.dli.org.